


I Just Wanna Be Loved

by peachsicle



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NSFW, Suppressed Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsicle/pseuds/peachsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like this at every con, since the first time they truly met, it always ended like this – not that Sean minded it, really. Feeling Mark’s warm skin flush to his own, hearing the way he breathed out his name like a prayer, it was far more intoxicating than any alcohol could ever be. It never lasts, though, for the approaching morning brings back the reality that Mark is ashamed of their relationship, ashamed of what he lets Sean do to him, and each time it's like this it reopens the wound left in Sean's heart. He doesn't want to do this anymore, he doesn't want to just be with Mark for a night. </p>
<p>He wants to be loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Wanna Be Loved

**Author's Note:**

> Oh lordy help me now I have gone and jumped into septiplier hell. This is the first multi-chapter fic I have written in almost 5 years, so it'll be interesting to see how well I keep up with all of this. I have a lot of inspiration for where I want this to go, though, so I'm hoping I'll actually keep on top of it.

“I missed you,” he pants out softly as they break their passionate kiss, Sean’s lips finding the other’s jugular and nipping at it hurriedly, prompting a throaty groan from his half-Korean counterpart. Mark never handles his alcohol well, especially compared to that of the Irishman, who is somewhere between tipsy and mildly intoxicated; Mark, with his words rushed and desperate, is all but gone. “I missed you, so please.”

It’s like this at every con, since the first time they truly met, it always ended like this – not that Sean minded it, really. Feeling Mark’s warm skin flush to his own, hearing the way he breathed out his name like a prayer, it was far more intoxicating than any alcohol could ever be. It was the approaching morning, though, that Sean wished wouldn’t come, when Mark would awaken, hungover and shameful, and hurry to collect his clothing and possessions before leaving the room and the septic-based YouTuber whom he’d let fuck him rigorously the night before in a fit of drunken need. That alone was almost enough to make him stop, to send Mark back to his hotel room alone, and to move on with his life. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, Sean strokes him slowly, biting at the tender skin of the other’s neck, and Mark chokes on a deep groan. His hips buck into the touch, fingers threading through the greened tendrils of Sean’s hair as his fingernails prod his scalp, and Mark can’t help but beg for more. It’s been months, now, since their last reunion, he’s missed this, and, fuck, he needs this. 

“You’re beautiful when you beg,” Sean whispers to him, thumb running almost agonizingly slowly over the pink head of the other’s cock, slicking his finger in Mark’s precum and drawing another choked groan from him. His accent is heavier than normal, thick with his arousal as he watches his partner writhe desperately into his touch. “Tell me what you want me to do, baby, tell me how you want your tight ass fucked.”

Mark loves this side of him, even if he won’t admit it sober; the filth that spills from the other’s lips is enough to make him moan out, but he manages to hold himself together long enough to answer. “I want-mph!-I want it f-from behind,” he manages before he whines, Sean having removed his hand. There’s a tender kiss to his temple before the Irishman is moving, quickly (and with force) shifting himself and Mark’s positions until the latter’s chest is pressed into the mattress, ass pressed against Sean’s throbbing cock. They’d already prepared for this, the moment the clothes had come off, there had been a mix of the two fingering Mark’s cock-seeking ass, teasing him relentlessly until Sean was willing to give him the real thing. 

They stay there like that for several moments, the Irishman’s hand splaying across the space between the other’s shoulder blades. He drinks in the image, Mark’s muscles taught and toned, sweat glistening off the dim light of the room – he’s been working out since last they met, but Sean knew that already. Mark liked to brag about it any chance he got on camera, and even in private, when it was just them, and the only camera on was that of the webcams with which they skyped. A sudden whine, and Sean is pulled back to the moment before him, back to the man before him, and he chuckles softly. 

“Relax, baby,” He whispers cooly, hand moving slowly down Mark’s spine before coming to rest against his hip, his own moving slowly against the other’s plump ass. He doesn’t press in, not yet, instead watches as his partner squirms and writhes beneath him, desperate to feel any relief. It was entertaining to watch him in his drunken haze, to see what a cock whore he became when he was deprived and inebriated. Still, Sean can’t resist it much longer, either, cock straining with need; he was as desperate as Mark was. “Are you ready?”

He doesn’t really wait for an answer before he’s slowly guiding himself into Mark’s willing hole, a hiss of pleasure snaking through his clenched teeth; the Korean was always so tight, regardless of how much prepping they did. Mark didn’t seem to mind it, though, his hips instinctively moving back against the Irishman, his guttural moans muffled against the mattress. He’s so damn impatient in everything he does, be it games or sex, but it’s one of Sean’s favorite things about him. 

It’s a few moments before he’s fully sheathed inside his partner, a continuous stream of moans and swears and pure filth spilling from Mark’s mouth. Leaning over him, Sean’s lips press lightly against his shoulders, a brief and comforting act before his hips pull back and snap back against Mark’s, a harsh thrust that quickly drain’s the Irishman of his anxieties of the morning. For now, all there is to focus on is the beautiful Korean below him, and the pleasure of his tight ass clenching around Sean’s needy cock. 

His pace is brutal, it always is when they get like this, and Mark takes every bit of it in stride as his own hips rock backwards to meet Sean’s thrusts, the latter’s hand wrapped firmly around his partner’s cock as he slowly strokes him. This drunk, it never takes long before Mark is crying out into the empty air, cum spilling over his lover’s fingers and the sheets below them, and this time is hardly an exception as he grips the blankets. 

“Jack-“ he gasps out, stomach coiling tightly, and it only stirs the Irishman on. With a switch in the angle of his hips, Sean thrusts harshly into the Korean, relishing in the sudden and pleasured cry. It’s not a moment later when he feels Mark coming, his tightening muscles pulling Sean to his own sudden orgasm, a low groan sounding from deep in his chest. He rides it out as long as he can, willing the moment to last just a little longer. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want it to go back to pretending that nothing had happened, that there was nothing between them. With every smile at one another, every joke, every brush of their skin, he hates the hiding more and more.

For several minutes, they stay perfectly still, the only movement coming from their heaving chests, their shared panting the only noise. Slowly, as their breathing calms, Sean pulls out, the softest groan leaving the lover below him. He sits back on his knees, hand slowly running down Mark’s hips before he pulls away entirely, standing off the bed to clean up. Dazed, the Korean turns to watch him, eyes half lidded with sleep and alcohol. Sean makes quick work of getting himself clean, even taking extra care to splash his face with water before he grabs a towel, wets it, and returns to his half asleep lover. 

Mark doesn’t move as the other starts to clean him up, the very hands that caused the bruises slowly forming on his hips surprisingly gentle as he cleans. Even in his drunken haze, he does notice the way Sean prolongs the process, the way his hands caress his skin, rather than clean it. He notices, even, the other’s hesitation when he does finally finish, and as he moves away to toss the towel back into the bathroom. 

“Jack,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep. Sean doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, instead responding with a simple “mm”; he’s trying not to let the bitterness set in so quickly, but it’s hard to keep it out of his voice, no longer stuck in the fantasy that their moment of ecstasy could last forever, or that he might wake up in the morning to the surprise that his lover is still in his bed, willing to stay with him, rather than running and pretending nothing happened. He can feel Mark’s burning holes into the back of his, and he sighs softly before turning, voice as gentle as he can make it.

“What is it Mark?”

When the other doesn’t respond, Sean stares for several moments, wondering if Mark had simply forgotten his words, or if he had decided not to say anything at all. It’s only a minute or so later, when he’s met with soft snores, that he realizes – the idiot fell asleep, and it’s typical of him to leave Sean waiting. With another soft sigh, the Irishman walks back to his sleeping lover, draping the blankets over his shoulders before climbing into the bed next to him. He doesn’t sleep, though, not right away; there’s so much rattling through his mind that he can’t bring himself to sleep, not for a few hours, anyway. And when he does finally sleep, he can only dream of both of them, exactly like this, without the need for fear that the warm body beside him would leave.

.:.

He’s startled awake a few hours later by his hotel room door slamming, the warmth beside him gone and replaced instead by cold loneliness. He stares, wide-eyed, at the door for several minutes, as if hoping that Mark might come back, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mark would find that there was nothing wrong with their relationship, and maybe, just maybe, he’d embrace whatever this was with open arms. It’s only after 10 minutes pass, Sean’s ears ringing with the echo of the door slamming in the silence, that he realizes that Mark isn’t coming back. 

He’s alone. And no amount of hoping is going to bring the other back to him. 

Instead of attempting to go back to sleep – he’s far too wired now for that – Sean chooses to simply get ready for the long day ahead of him; there’s still two days of the con to go, two days left for him to pretend that he and Mark are simply platonic, and that just mere hours ago the two hadn’t been locked in passionate fucking. He doesn’t want to face him, doesn’t want to face any of them, but he puts on a brave face as the sun rises and their eager companions bang on his door to get him and head to the convention center. 

It was only two more days, and then he could go back to Ireland, and, if he so chose to, then he could forget Mark, and this whole experience.  
Just two days.


End file.
